


Open For A Surprise

by cryromantic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Birthday Sex, Bottom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Top Sylvain Jose Gautier, a bit introspectivey idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryromantic/pseuds/cryromantic
Summary: Sylvain would rather drink up Dimitri in their bedroom than guzzle down the cheap beer in their living room. It's his birthday and he can do what he wants, after all.He’s hesitating. Sylvain lifts his thigh and rubs it teasingly against Dimitri who exhales sharply at the sudden friction. “Don’t be shy on me now,” says Sylvain, tone coaxing, "it’s nothing I haven’t seen.”Dimitri bites his lip, but he gets his pants open. Sylvain watches as he springs free. “Huh,” he says. It takes him a moment to process what it is he is looking at.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 126





	Open For A Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> "Sylvain's bday was two months ago!"
> 
> TIME BENDS TO ME AND ME ALONE. 
> 
> Thanks so much to my dear friend Rika for reading it over and dealing with my general nonsense. 💖

Sylvain never saw the point in celebrating something as arbitrary as the day his idiot self decided to leave his mother’s womb. A slice of cake and bottle of tequila was more than enough acknowledgement of his birth. Didn’t even need to be _good_ tequila. Oh, but the burden of having a fussy boyfriend is a great one. He can’t get away with day drinking at the local sports bar and wallowing in self-pity anymore.

Ever since they became a thing his lovely, dear Dimitri insists on throwing him not-so-surprise parties. Sylvain doesn’t try to find out about them in advance every year. It just happens. Dimitri isn’t the best at keeping secrets, never has been—Sylvain still pretends for him.

It isn’t so bad being surrounded by the handful of people in his life that give a shit about him. He can admit that much to himself. This year is no different.

Even so, he can’t help but admire Dimitri from across their too-small living room and imagine stealing him away from their friends. Dimitri always looks good—respectable—but tonight he looks _fucking hot_. He’s tied his hair back, his bangs brushed carefully out of his face. An only-sort of wrinkled button down stretches over his broad shoulders. Dimitri’s jeans—which Sylvain is pretty sure are actually his jeans— cling to his thighs in a way that steals the breath from Sylvain’s lungs. He has already adjusted himself discreetly more than once.

How much more is he going to have to endure?

He chances another glance at Dimitri. His eyes are bright with amusement at whatever story Ashe is telling him. Goddess, it’s probably that same cat story again. Dimitri’s shoulders begin to shake and he looks away to cover a laugh. Their eyes meet. Dimitri gives Sylvain one of his small, sweet smiles. His cheeks dimple and Sylvain thinks he would join a religion if it meant he got to keep this image in his mind for the rest of his days. It only lasts a moment, but Sylvain’s heart pounds all the same. It always does when Dimitri looks at him like Sylvain is worth a damn.

Sylvain chugs the rest of his warm light beer and drops the can on the coffee table. He mumbles an excuse to Ingrid and Mercedes and vacates his spot between them on the couch.

“Have fun, dear!” Mercedes calls after him. Sylvain winks back at her. He’ll endure no more. 

In only a few quick strides, Sylvain sidles up behind Dimitri. He wraps his arms around his torso, props his chin on Dimitri’s shoulder. Dimitri grabs his wrist, but makes no other acknowledgement of his Sylvain-shaped backpack. That won’t do.

Sylvain presses his face into Dimitri’s neck. He breathes in the scent of—his own cologne. That's fine, it smells amazing on Dimitri too. Sylvain kisses behind Dimitri’s ear, pleased at the way Dimitri’s grip on his wrist tightens. It’s a relatively quick affair to convince Dimitri to come upstairs with him. A whispered compliment in his ear, fingers playing coyly with his belt loop was just about all it took. Sylvain wonders if Dimitri was just as desperate for him.

Dimitri hurriedly voices a flimsy excuse to Ashe (bless him for having the decency to believe it) and they leave the party to rush up the stairs.

Sylvain cages Dimitri with his arms on the landing and they laugh like school kids as their lips meet. Sylvain swallows down Dimitri’s soft sounds, carefully sticks his fingers underneath the hem of Dimitri’s shirt. “ _Sylvain_ ,” gasps Dimitri, “people can _see_.”

Sylvain hums, nips at Dimitri’s jaw and kisses a line down his neck. “Just a sec,” he mumbles as he tugs Dimitri’s collar to the side to suck at the skin there. He feels white-hot desire start to coil deep in his belly at the way Dimitri holds him close.

Soft pleas of his name and high pitched _oh’s_ spur him onward. Sylvain boldly slips his thigh between Dimitri’s legs and grinds it lightly against him.

The only thing that stops him from seeking out more pleasure on their landing is Dimitri’s desperate tugs on his shirt. Sylvain pulls away from Dimitri’s neck and appreciates his boyfriend’s dazed expression. Sylvain pushes away from the wall and tugs Dimitri by the hand the rest of the way to their room.

Somehow their shoes end up discarded in the hall before they nearly trip their way through the doorway. They end up near the bed where Sylvain is promptly shoved back. He doesn’t mind much. Not when Dimitri crawls in after him and settles astride Sylvain as if he belongs there.

Music from the party drifts muffled into their bedroom. Sylvain glances to the door and tries to remember if they locked it in in their haste. Maybe? It’s not his problem, he decides, if their friends burst in and see something not meant for them. Besides, there are more important matters that require his attention.

Sylvain watches Dimitri unbutton his shirt. Spellbound by the methodical way his fingers move. He reaches for Dimitri when the last button comes free. “Keep it on,” he urges, voice low.

Dimitri looks incredible. The hard planes of his abs peeking out from behind his shirt. His unfairly plump chest skirting on the edge of full exposure. Sylvain settles back again, leaning on his elbows. Dimitri’s hands have since drifted downwards, hovering over the button of his jeans.

He’s hesitating. Sylvain lifts his thigh and rubs it teasingly against Dimitri who exhales sharply at the sudden friction. “Don’t be shy on me now,” says Sylvain, tone coaxing, "it’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

Dimitri bites his lip, but he gets his pants open. Sylvain watches as he springs free. “Huh,” he says. It takes him a moment to process what it is he is looking at.

His normally prim boyfriend isn’t wearing any underwear. Which is _fantastic_ and noteworthy on its own, but what really catches Sylvain’s attention is the cute, red ribbon Dimitri has tied onto himself. He sits up and stares wide eyed at it.

“S-surprise?” stammers Dimitri. He grips Sylvain’s shoulders tight as the jeans are pulled further down his hips. For scrutinizing purposes. “I thought you would find it funny.”

That’s one way to put it. Sylvain tugs on one of the loops and delights in the small gasp he gets in response. “Oh no, it’s great,” he says, looking up at Dimitri, a lascivious grin tugging the corners of his mouth. 

He releases the ribbon and reaches behind Dimitri to knead at the flesh of his rear. Dimitri’s grip on his shoulders tightens until it borders on painful. The promise of little bruises forming there sends a shiver down Sylvain's spine.

He loves it when Dimitri leaves marks on his skin. He wears them proudly. Dimitri is always apologetic, but Sylvain sees them as proof he is cared for. Undeniably _desired_ by the most soft-hearted man he has ever met.

Together they manage to free one of Dimitri’s legs from the confines of his jeans. Sylvain traces Dimitri with his hands, feels taut muscle and warm skin. His fingers dance along Dimitri’s hips and he laughs as Dimitri jerks against him. He leans forward and offers his lips as an apology, teases Dimitri’s neck with his teeth and revels in the little pinched sounds Dimitri makes.

Eventually Dimitri shoves at his shoulders and forces Sylvain to lay back against the pillows. He doesn’t protest when Dimitri crawls over him again and reaches for the lube that has been sitting on their bedside table all week. Sylvain makes a grab for it but his hand is batted away.

“It’s your birthday,” says Dimitri, color starting to bloom high on his cheeks, “so… Let me.”

Sylvain relaxes into their bed sheets, keeps his commentary to himself when Dimitri nervously squeezes too much lube into his palm. The excess drips down and stains Sylvain's shirt; he can hardly bring himself to care. Dimitri's face twists in concentration as he reaches behind himself. 

His breath shakes and his lip quivers with an effort to keep quiet. Sylvain swallows past a lump in his throat. He desperately wants to hear Dimitri. Listen to the syrupy sounds he makes as he opens himself up. But. Dimitri can be loud. And they aren't alone in their house.

Sylvain wouldn't care, really, if everyone downstairs knew-and some of them surely know already. Dimitri would care though. Instead, Sylvain wordlessly pulls himself out of his slacks.

Dimitri's skin is beginning to flush pink. Sylvain gives himself a squeeze, fingers working languidly on his shaft. He follows the expanse of broad shoulders with his eyes, appreciates the way Dimitri's shirt has slipped from them. The flush on his pale skin has reached all the way down to his nipples.

 _Fuck._ Dimitri is pretty like this. "You're beautiful," praises Sylvain, thumbing at his tip and not bothering to stifle a groan. "So good for me."

Sylvain watches rapt as the muscles of Dimitri's arm twitch. The way Dimitri drives himself back on his hand, whining at the praises being freely given. 

He considers pushing Dimitri off. Flipping him over and replacing fingers with his tongue. It's been a while. Too long since he's had Dimitri writhing against his mouth. Sylvain tugs lightly at himself. _Later._ When he can give his boyfriend the attention he deserves.

Instead he surges up, grabs Dimitri's waist and _tugs_. Dimitri falls against him with a satisfying cry. 

"I told you I would t-take care of it."

Despite the complaint, Sylvain can still feel it as Dimitri grinds his hips in small circles against him. He chuckles low and leans forward to nip at Dimitri's earlobe.

"You don't seem to mind." Sylvain smooths his hands over Dimitri's waist and back before settling them once again on his ass. He spreads Dimitri apart and practically preens at the way his hips stutter.

Dimitri pants and whispers Sylvain's name in a prayer. Or is it a beg for mercy? Sylvain squeezes the firm muscle in his hands. Dimitri's head drops onto his shoulder and Sylvain can hear a tiny whimper in his ear. Admiration curls tight into his chest at the sound of it.

He continues kneading Dimitri's flesh. Pushing and pulling until Dimitri is squirming in his grip. His fingers meet Dimitri’s and Sylvain can hardly resist the temptation to press in alongside them. So he does. 

There is a squelch as his fingertip works its way inside. “You're dripping,” says Sylvain. Goddess, he used _so much_ lube.

Dimitri grunts as he adjusts to the new intrusion. Sylain’s middle finger is snug against Dimitri’s thick two. 

Dimitri hisses and rocks his hips, plunging their fingers deeper into himself. He cries out and writhes, adding fuel to the desire that burns Sylvain's entire being. He curls his arm around Dimitri’s waist. Splays his hand over the feverish skin, appreciating the way Dimitri jumps at his touch. 

He pulls his finger out slow. Too slow. It must be agonizing, but Sylvain finds that he enjoys the low whine it drags from his boyfriend's throat too much to care. 

"Tell me what you need," husks Sylvain, as he nudges Dimitri's fingers and delights in the shuddering breath in his ear.

For a long moment, they are still. Sylvain feels along Dimitri's spine and waits. Noise from the party creeps back into his consciousness. Music from a band he hates and idle chatter he can't quite make out press against his ears. He wonders if Dimitri is overwhelmed. Sylvain turns to press his nose into soft blonde hair. "Alright in there?" 

There is a small noise in his ear and Dimitri is moving again. He slowly takes his hand away from himself and lifts his face from its hiding spot to lock eyes with Sylvain. “Yes,” he breathes. Dimitri reaches for Sylvain, cups his jaw so tenderly Sylvain could melt. “I want— _need_ —”

Dimitri’s chest heaves and his eyes are glazed. Relief and elation flood Sylvain’s veins. He holds Dimitri’s hips and moves in to catch Dimitri’s mouth. It is gentle at first, coaxing. Sylvain presses in, slots their lips together like a puzzle. 

Soon Sylvain starts to nip and tease Dimitri’s bottom lip. He bites down and lets go, grinning as Dimitri whines and chases. Their teeth clack and their tongues meet and Sylvain tastes the cheap beer that lingers on Dimitri’s breath. “Babe,” he pants, moving to drag his mouth over Dimitri’s jaw.

He kisses upwards. Lingering on the jagged scar that graces Dimitri’s features. It’s a ritual, if he’s ever had one, to press his lips against that imperfection. The first place he dared kiss Dimitri.

“Talk to me.”

Dimitri breathes out slowly. Sylvain’s grip tightens till he feels Dimitri’s hip bones beneath his fingertips. Dimitri has wound his fingers into Sylvain’s hair. Finally, he nods.

“Inside. _Please_.”

Sylvain moves quickly. He settles himself back again, digs a condom from their bedside table, and slips it on with practised ease. He urges Dimitri forward with a firm grip on his thighs. “Come on. Yeah, just like that,” he says, as Dimitri reaches behind himself. Sylvain can’t stop the grin spreading on his face as Dimitri grips him. “That’s it babe. You want it don’t you?”

Whether Dimitri is shaking with nervousness or laughter, he can’t tell. _Years_ with the man and Sylvain still can hardly get him to take any sort of bedroom talk seriously.

It's fine. It doesn't matter. Dimitri finally nudges the head against his entrance. Sylvain inhales and bites the inside of his cheek. _Fuck_ , he so badly wants to pull Dimitri down. To rough him up a little. Hold Dimitri still while he thrusts up into him. It feels like they’ve been here for hours now.

But he’ll behave.

He slips inside and Dimitri gasps. He begins to sink down, and Sylvain could swear he can hear an angel's choir—of course that could just be whoever has control of the speaker downstairs.

Finally—blissfully— Dimitri begins to move. Finds a rhythm and takes more and more of Sylvain inside. He leans back, uses Sylvain’s thighs for balance, and bottoms out. It almost feels soft being inside Dimitri. As if he’s enveloped in warm silk with the way he glides in and out of the sinful heat.

He moans appreciatively as Dimitri rolls against him. Sylvain grips tight onto Dimitri's thigh. He loves this. Loves seeing Dimitri let go. Adores how his head tips back and his mouth hangs open in a silent plea as he chases pleasure.

Sylvain drinks in the sight before him. From the bow bouncing with Dimitri's movements, up to the thick patch of blonde curls at his base that form a tantalizing trail to his navel. 

Dimitri is a vision.

"Oh, baby boy, you feel good." The words tumble from Sylvain's mouth. The heat of Dimitri. The sound of their bodies meeting over and over. It's too much. "Let me touch you."

He takes Dimitri's broken moan as confirmation to reach out. Sylvain first pulls the bow, tugs until it comes off. Dimitri makes a sound akin to a sob. Then he wraps his hand around Dimitri. Pumps him clumsily along with the movement of his hips.

It's over too soon. Dimitri shouts and comes, his hips still undulating as his orgasm takes him. Dimitri's spend drips and stains Sylvain's shirt. Dimitri is panting and calling Sylvain's name; his only lifeline in the ocean of mindless pleasure.

It's when he looks down at Sylvain with his hazy blue eyes and sweat dampened hair that the last thread of Sylvain's control frays. He takes advantage of Dimitri's state to flip them. Rolls them until he's on his knees, holding Dimitri's legs up and apart.

"Sylvain," slurs Dimitri, but he doesn't stop him. Only grips the sheet and watches intently. 

Sylvain snaps his hips forward. Buries himself to the hilt over and over, mindlessly chasing the high only Dimitri can give him. The bed creaks ominously and a deep part of Sylvain's mind worries they'll fall through the floor and crush the party guests below.

 _Worth it_.

Dimitri keens, his back bows. “Kiss me,” he begs.

It never fails to amaze him just how flexible Dimitri can be. Sylvain adjusts with a grunt, puts Dimitri’s legs over his shoulders, and forces Dimitri to bend for him. Dimitri’s knees skim his chest and he cries as Sylvain sinks impossibly deeper. 

They kiss. It’s sweet, all things considered. Dimitri’s lips are irresistibly red and waiting to be ruined. Sylvain tastes him. Explores his pliant mouth with a greedy tongue. He feels broad hands on his sides and his hips stutter.

Dimitri rubs his back in soothing circles, whispers sweet things meant for Sylvain and Sylvain alone. Sylvain’s thrusts grow frantic. His body feels so hot. It’s awful, but it’s also so _good_. “Dimitri,” Sylvain gasps, “ _please_?”

He never knows what exactly it is he asks Dimitri for whenever he’s on the precipice.

Dimitri never seems to mind giving it to him anyway.

The answer is immediate, the same as always. “I love you.” 

Dimitri whispers it, lips pressed to Sylvain’s ear. His breath is warm and voice velvety soft. Sylvain tips over the edge. Dimitri graciously lies still as Sylvain uses him to ride out the wave of orgasm.

They stay there for a while afterwards. Sylvain’s clarity comes to him in stages as he gazes down at his boyfriend. His boyfriend who looks to be in total bliss. Sylvain can't say he doesn't feel the same.

He puts Dimtitri’s legs down and pulls out. “You ruined my good shirt,” he says, amused.

Dimitri props himself up on his elbows. His carefully combed back hair has returned to its usual mop-like state. “I suppose we’ll have to get you another one,” he says, grinning slowly, “as a birthday present.”

“Oh yeah? You weren’t my present then?” Sylvain covers Dimitri’s body with his own. He leans on his hands and presses a kiss to Dimitri’s forehead.

“Yes, but you get me every year,” answers Dimitri. He tips his head back, meets Sylvain’s lips with his. He hums low when Sylvain attempts to nip him.

“The bow was new.”

Dimitri laughs embarrassedly and Sylvain feels his heart skip a beat. 

"You liked it though?" asks Dimitri, voice quiet. As if the way Sylvain just finished trying to bury himself inside him weren't a good enough answer.

Sylvain moves fast. Tackles Dimitri down and laughs at his indignant squeak of surprise. "I did," assures Sylvain, "in fact you should do it more often."

He trails his lips over Dimitri's chest, smiles at the soft sigh he receives in response.

"I will-think about it." Dimitri runs his fingers through Sylvain's hair, hooks his leg over his waist.

That's good enough for Sylvain.


End file.
